A Palette for Love and Murder by Saralyn Richard

Author:Saralyn Richard
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Palm Circle Press, LLC
Published: 2022-08-22T00:00:00+00:00

The long roadway, the circular driveway, and the additional parking areas had been plowed, and car parkers were giving out tickets and taking keys from guests as they arrived. Parrott turned his Camry over to a guy whose jacket said, “Alonzo,” and he rushed over to assist Tonya as she entered the house.

The Campbells and Andrea Baker had walked in to Manderley ahead of the Parrotts. Caro and John E. were carrying several cakes and pies, handing them over to a young woman in a black and white maid’s uniform.

Several couples milled about the living room, looking at the paintings on the wall and talking in hushed tones. A table by the French doors held a display of photographs, framed newspaper clippings, gallery programs—souvenirs from Allmond’s successful life in the competitive world of art. Parrott didn’t know any artists before now, but he compared it to guys he knew from football who’d made it big in the pros. The ratio of wannabes to successes made his respect for Allmond multiply.

Tonya found Elle in the breakfast room and sat down next to her, while Parrott walked around, observing. Despite the house full of guests, flowers, and food, the atmosphere at this reception was off. Even for a funeral reception, it was too quiet, too cold. Whether Elle was overwhelmed with grief, or she was overly shy, she certainly wasn’t playing hostess.

Parrott saw LeRoi, standing in a corner with the choir director from the church. Approaching them, he extended his arms for a man-hug. “Great eulogy you gave, man. Heartfelt.”

LeRoi lowered his eyes, and for a moment Parrott thought he might cry. “It’s mighty difficult to bury somebody younger than you. Mr. Blake always told me he would take care of me. Now I’ll be looking after Miss Elle, I guess.”

Parrott murmured something about how Mr. Blake would likely appreciate that, and he moved on, walking from one room to the next. He spotted the Campbells, Andrea Baker, and Rupert Brooks, huddled in a corner in the family room. As he approached, they stopped talking, a reminder that he wasn’t, and never had been, a part of the one percent. He wasn’t one to judge, but he wasn’t one to stand around and talk about works of art, when there were people grieving, either. He said hello and left to swing back to the breakfast room to check on Tonya and Elle.

This time there were three at the table: Tonya, Elle, and Allmond’s nephew. They made quite a picture of diversity, but he was glad to see them smiling. This reception could use a little more sunshine.

“Is this seat taken?” Parrott asked, pulling the fourth and last chair away from the table.

“You need a password to join this table,” Tonya said with a wink. “We were just laughing about cows.” She pointed to the mural on the wall opposite them. “Elle painted that. Isn’t it lovely? Did you know this property used to be a dairy farm?”

Parrott must have looked perplexed, because Alexander said, “I’ll explain what’s so funny.

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